


Hidden In The Fog

by tiger_in_the_flightdeck



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alley Sex, M/M, Roleplay, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5133005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_in_the_flightdeck/pseuds/tiger_in_the_flightdeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Watson plays fast and loose with his own safety, the pair have an adrenaline fuelled romp in an alley near their crime scene, and a police inspector mistakes Holmes for a rent boy. </p><p>A fill for my Halloween Trick or Treat Fest on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden In The Fog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistyzeo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/gifts).



The yellow fog rolled down the street, swirling around carriages and carts before moving on. It altered the sounds, dampening the rhythmic creak and wobble of wheels on the stone, or the ringing strike of horseshoes. A voice sang out, a young woman calling for her beau. She could have been down the street, or right at the mouth of the alley. It was too thick in the air to tell.

But my attention was focused elsewhere.

“Reckless,”

A shot had come close. Too close. My jacket still stank from the scent of scorched wool on my left sleeve.

“Idiotic,”

The gunman had raised his revolver with the muzzle aimed at Holmes’ chest. Even in the meagre moonlight that had managed to penetrate the fog, it was unmistakeable, where he was aiming.

“Foolish,”

Without a thought, I had charged the gunman with my shoulder down and my hands out as if we were on a pitch. He had fired the moment I grabbed him.

“Impulsive,”

Holmes’ cry had seemed louder to me than the shot, keeping me from slamming the man’s head against the brick a second time.

“Rash,”

One of our inspector friends arrived to drag him off to a cell, leaving us alone.

“You have such sweet words for me.” With his legs around my waist, Holmes’ nervous fingers touched my chest, my arms, my shoulders, my neck, looking for injuries. The bullet had ruined my jacket, but I was safe.

Thumbing open the buttons of his trousers, I pulled them down as far as his braces would allow. I plunged my hand under his drawers to grab a firm mound of muscle and smooth skin.

“If you ever do something so dangerous again-”

I chuckled and kissed the side of his head while he fumbled between us to open my trousers as well. “Trust me, my dear. It will be a week… Five days at least, before I do something like this again.”

Holmes dragged his nails over my groin. I’m sure it was meant to be a punishment or a chastisement, but it only served to encourage me. My hips surged forward and twitching in the cold damp October air, my cock found the warm swells of his skinny rump.

We stroked and thrust and arched in turns, pressing our mouths together to silence our gasps. Even the heaviness in the air wouldn’t be enough to muffle our voices if we allowed ourselves to forget where we were.

I spilled, hot and thick, over Holmes’ cheeks and against the hole I had been grinding on. His spend filled the hollow of my hand, hastily shaken off to leave shining splashes on the brick before I scrubbed my palm with a handkerchief pulled from the cuff of my sleeve.

He continued to cling to me until I untangled his legs and began setting his clothes to order. Still breathing rough and hard, I was more focused on his care than my own. My trousers lay open, my flagging staff not happy with the cold.

“Oi!” A sharp crack of a nightstick on the wall caused us both to jump. I turned quickly away to hide my state. “This is a decent neighbourhood. Take your business some place-” The constable lifted his lantern to shine in our direction. “Oh… Oh, Mr. Holmes. I didnae see you there.”

Between one breath and the next, Holmes straightened and appeared cool and composed despite the glossy white stain on the back of one of his gaiters and the rumpled state of his shirt. His baker boy was almost completely off his head. A proper air of dignity surrounded him and he nodded politely to the constable. “That was the intention, my dear fellow. If you didn’t see us, than it stands to reason that those we are investigating wouldn’t either.” he said calmly before a cheerful little laugh bubbled to his lips. “My goodness, did you think that I was earning my supper?”

The constable stammered and stumbled and beat a hasty retreat.

I swore through my teeth and finished tucking myself in. “That was too close.”

“You’re right, sir. Very right,” To my surprise, Holmes picked up a slight Somerset twang to his voice. The turned and rested one hand on his hip, jutting it out sharply to the side. “I still haven’t gotten my supper taken care of yet.”

My mouth worked wetly for a moment before I straightened and nodded. I glanced over his shoulder toward the street before sliding a hand over his waist. From my pocket I produced a newly minted shilling and moved it back and forth in front of him. His brilliant grey eyes followed the coin as eagerly as any postboy. Whatever games my love wanted to play, I was happy to indulge.

He snatched the coin and in a move so quick I almost didn’t see it, he tucked it into the band of his cap. “Aye, that’ll cover what we’ve done so far. But I don’t have any change, you see.”

“Well, you’ll just need to work to earn the difference.”


End file.
